


Some Mornings Have Their Perks

by creepy_shetan



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Breakfast, Community: comment_fic, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Unspecified Setting, unexpected word count
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepy_shetan/pseuds/creepy_shetan
Summary: Geralt isn't that embarrassed and Jaskier shouldn't be that surprised, honestly.(Originally posted 2020/4/29 as a fill for a prompt.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Roach, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020





	Some Mornings Have Their Perks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evil_Little_Dog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/gifts).



Jaskier woke to the smell of something absolutely mouthwatering cooking over their fire. He was used to Geralt moving about before sunrise to get started on things that could really wait a couple of hours more, especially on a chilly morning like this one, but a hot breakfast was never one of those things.

Wrapping his covers more securely around himself, Jaskier shuffled closer on his knees, eyes glued to the pot Geralt was staring into with a thoughtful frown.

"No," was all he said. Jaskier stopped, his own frown more of a pout. Before he could begin expressing his complaints, Geralt elaborated.

"It's for Roach."

At the sound of her name, Roach shook her head, ruffling her soft clean mane. In the flickering light of the fire, her coat looked freshly brushed, too. Jaskier realized after a moment that she had been watching Geralt and sniffing the warm mash from a few paces away. She knew exactly what rare treat he was preparing for her and had far more patience to wait for it than Jaskier knew he would have if he were in her place.

Case in point.

"Geralt, considering our meager dinner after yesterday's laborious and exhausting adventure, don't you think _Roach_ ," he considered dramatically shooting a glare in her direction but couldn't bring himself to do it, instead only stressing her name in a way that implied that he did not, in fact, mean her, "could learn to share her oats and apples and honey and--and is that _cinnamon_?"

"Only a pinch," Geralt murmured, focus elsewhere.

"A _pinch_?" Add that to the list of words Jaskier never thought he'd hear Geralt say. "Who _are_ you?"

While Jaskier gaped at him and struggled with narrowing his thoughts down to one flowing stream of semi-coherent commentary, Geralt removed the pot from the fire and ladled half of the mash into a flat pan that already contained an assortment of wild grasses and other plants (including the apple peels) for Roach to enjoy while it cooled. Jaskier had the abrupt mental image of Geralt gathering them that morning, neither the dark nor the cold bothering him -- nor his latest injuries, apparently -- and smiling to himself when he found a particular favorite of hers. Then Jaskier had another thought: Geralt had likely kept some of it in his bags for _days_ , picking it up along the road whenever Jaskier was lost in his composing. Which had been often, frankly, thanks to a certain verse giving him far more trouble than he cared to admit.

Jaskier's sudden silence mid-rant must have caught Geralt's attention. He was staring at Jaskier from the shadows behind Roach with the same quiet intensity that came with all of his stares, but this one was accompanied by a slight tilt of his head. He probably thought Jaskier had finally broken, a stitch in his brain snapping loose and everything within unravelling in a cascade.

"...Jaskier." It wasn't a question, but perhaps there was a hint of concern. Perhaps.

"What's special about today, Geralt?" Jaskier asked brightly, his return to the present moment so swift that he jumped past his usual grand metaphor or salacious anecdote completely, going straight to the point.

Geralt's full response was "Hmm." After a solid five seconds of silence and zero eye contact. Jaskier tried not to be outwardly smug about his flawless deduction. That didn't apply to the fond smile across his face, of course.

With a short sigh and a parting pat to Roach's shoulder, Geralt returned to where he'd left the pot near the fire. He ladled out the rest of the mash into not one, but both of their old, travel-weary bowls. He passed one to Jaskier, who proceeded to cradle it between his chilled hands and inhale the aroma, his words of gratitude adding a cloud of mist to the wisps of steam gently rising in the air. Geralt didn't acknowledge him whatsoever. He simply reached into one of their packs for another spoon and a small satchel with a few bites of dried meat still inside.

"Oh," Jaskier remembered with a wide-eyed blink, straightening. He still had no desire to leave his bedroll, however, and Geralt was closer anyway. "Look in there," he motioned to one bag, "in my handkerchief. The pale blue one."

Geralt made an irritated noise but found the square of soft cloth with ease. When he unfolded it in his palm, the sight of a handful of perfectly ripe berries seemed to make the furrow in his brows just a bit smoother. He took two and placed the rest next to the leftover jerky between them. Jaskier topped his bowl with three berries before taking a careful first bite of the mash. Closing his eyes for a moment, a small content sigh drifted from Jaskier's lips. Then he turned his head to address Roach with a friendly grin.

"Happy anniversary or birthday, you beautiful old girl." Roach glanced up from her meal and snorted. She was _not_ old. Jaskier raised his bowl in cheers. "Thanks for the spoils." Then more seriously to Geralt, "No, really, this horse feed is quite palatable, I must say. Must be the cinnamon." He licked the back of his spoon with a thoughtful look upward. "Or the chef."

"Jaskier," Geralt growled. Low-angled sunbeams were finding ways through the scattered trees nearby, and the path of one was halted by the side of Geralt's face as he leaned closer to the shrinking fire, arms braced on his knees. Jaskier couldn't help but think that the competing orange glows lighting his features were undermining whatever stern stoniness he was going for this time. "Just eat."

"As you wish, my dear witcher." He took another bite and his face lit up as well, albeit in an entirely different manner. "Oooh, the apples are nice and soft."

" _Jaskier._ "

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt: Any fandom with horses, Any+Any, Horses get fed first, before humans have breakfast  
> The theme: Breakfast  
> Originally posted [here](https://comment-fic.livejournal.com/1097967.html?thread=114565103#t114565103).  
> I only own the writing.
> 
> For the curious... Here's my original author's note: "I have never written a word for this fandom, and I know nothing about the books or the video games ~~besides amusing glitches~~ , but... The monster slayer only talks to his horse for _many years_ until a bard decides to follow him around, literally singing his praises, for _many years_. It was only a matter of time before I gave it a shot, although this is pre-slash at best. >:P"
> 
> I waited about seven weeks to watch it past the first episode, and then it was another seven weeks before I looked up anything fannish or production/promo-related. The combination of those Great Witcher Bake Off videos and this prompt is what made me cave in, I think.


End file.
